


Soft Claws

by Chaifootsteps



Category: Mass Effect, Mass Effect Trilogy
Genre: Anal Fingering, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Laughter During Sex, Oral Sex, Trans Shepard (Mass Effect)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-12
Updated: 2021-03-12
Packaged: 2021-03-17 00:09:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 748
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29958006
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chaifootsteps/pseuds/Chaifootsteps
Summary: The nail caps go by many brand names on the Citadel market, and under none of them do they succeed in fooling anyone.AKA, the stupidest thing I've ever written.
Relationships: Female Shepard/Garrus Vakarian, Shepard/Garrus Vakarian
Comments: 4
Kudos: 7





	Soft Claws

The nail caps go by many brand names on the Citadel market, and under none of them do they succeed in fooling anyone.

Ever since they first became popularized in Fleet and Flotilla, the _official_ story is that they’re meant to keep Turian claws from puncturing Quarian suits – after all, the infamous love scene garnered enough controversy without Bellicus ripping open Shalei’s gear like an infectious solar wind tearing across a newborn colony. But make no mistake – everyone and their mother knows what those caps are for.

And if K Shepard could track down their inventor and send them a Christmas card every year, she would. 

There’s no doubt that Garrus is by far the most attentive lover she’s ever had. He was even back when he had no idea what to do with her. But now that he’s got a solid working knowledge of human anatomy?

Whenever he makes a good, long show of slipping on those nail caps, K knows she’s in trouble.

She _thinks_ they’ve been at this for a while now, but Garrus at his most focused makes it impossible to tell; every time she considers glancing over at the clock, he nibbles on her inner thigh and she’s gone again. His long, slender, utterly ingenious fingers are gliding smoothly in and out of her, his tongue slithering up her length and teasing the head in a way that could have easily won the First Contact War. Her thighs are butter soft with the amount of warm oil dripping from his knuckles.

Two fingers. Enough to get her thinking about how it usually feels when he’s inside her, and how it will feel this time, and how savagely _unfair_ it is that he isn’t.

“ _Shit,”_ she curses, twitching as the blunted tips of his claws tickle the spot that always wreaks havoc on her higher thought processes. _“Garrus…_ ”

“Mmm?” he muses, metronoming his tongue across her slit at an unhurried pace. Through the curtain of her bangs, it’s all she can see.

“I’m good, okay?” With only a touch of shame, she hears herself adopt a pleading note. “I’m _ready._ ”

“I know you’re ready, Commander,” he replies with infuriating patience. “That’s not the point, is it?” And he crooks his fingers, hard and sharp until her back bends in kind.

_“Shit! Shitshitohgodfuck!”_

When he backs off, she swears she could kick something. Damn it, she’s rock hard, leaking. He _knows_ how tightly cranked she has to be to get to rock hard. Apparently he hasn’t forgotten, because he chuckles warmly into her inner thigh – like he’s every bit as charming and attractive as she knows he is.

“Alright, alright. I’ll be good.” He nuzzles back up the plain of her body, hitting every scar, so that she forgives him by the time he reaches her navel. By the time her fingers find his crest, tangling around them as she kisses him, she couldn’t care less how long he’s been toying with her. “I’ve got my orders…”

“You do.”

He goes back to pull off the nail caps, working at them a little to free them and dropping them unceremoniously to the floor. There’s plenty more where that came from; it’s an assorted bulk box they keep by the bedside. Some are blue, some are neon, a few are glitter. And some are…

…some are…

… _oh god._

In the half-light of the bedroom, they couldn’t have missed it if they tried. Garrus’s index fingertip – the one that mere moments ago had been comfortably flexing away inside her ass – is radiating the most fetching shade of glow-in-the-dark green ever known to human or turiankind. K stares, dazed and faraway and just a little helpless…then, like a leak in an embezzled dam, the laughter begins.

And keeps coming. And coming. And somehow, still coming. A full-throated, bucking, desperate laugh that brings tears to her eyes and threatens her ability to breathe. Even for the sake of salvaging the mood, she doubts she could stop if someone wrote her a check to do so.

Garrus chuckles along at first, politely. Like he’s not sure what just happened, but alright, fair enough…they’re both naked and life is good. By and by, however…

“Oh, come on now. It’s not _that_ funny, is it?”

K raises her own fingertip, and through the wild, delirious laughter that comes after nine hours of paperwork followed by twenty minutes of prostate massage…

_“I’ll…be…right…here!”_

Garrus can’t even begin to guess.


End file.
